Chapter Fifteen

AMELIA

This is not good.

This is sooo not good.

He’s too close, dangerously close.

And I can’t stop staring at him, taking in the way his muscles contract with every movement he makes, the way he sears me with just one look, the way he smells like fresh laundry and pure masculinity.

And I also can’t stop licking my damn lips.

There is only one reason for my behavior. From the way my body responds to his, I’m so not over this man. Not even close, despite how much I wish I am. Every time he’s near me, my stomach flips, my heart rate picks up, and memories of what used to be immediately replays in my head.

He has me locked against the wall right now, and as a woman in a healthy relationship, I should easily be able to push him away from me, and say, “No, no, sir. I’m spoken for.”

But instead, the juncture between my thighs aches. No, it burns for him, as my pelvis slowly dry-humps the air in his direction.

Classy, so fucking classy.

I’m just horny, that’s all. I haven’t seen Trey in a few weeks, and I haven’t heard from him in a couple days. And when I don’t see or hear from my man in a few days, I get stir-crazy. That’s it.

It’s not the six-foot-six, giant muscle of a man hovering over me, piercing me with his seductive eyes, and filling me with an impossible sensory overload that my body’s only response is to casually dry-hump the air.

It’s not that at all.

“You might be in a relationship, Amelia, but you want me,” he says, his voice rumbling over my body like the thunder outside.

“Not true,” I answer meekly, but we both know it’s a lie. My hands reach out to hold on to his waist, but I stop them and tuck them behind my back. There is no touching . . . God, but I want to touch him. Everywhere.

Leaning in closer, he runs his cheek against mine and presses his lips against my ear, sending chills down my body. He smells so good, like soap and rain. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Until you’re ready to admit it, I will sit idly by, waiting for you.” For some reason, I don’t think sitting idly by is something Aaron can actually do.

The scruff on his cheek rubs against my face, his lips a whisper away, his breathing just as heavy as mine. What can one little kiss do? Just a taste? I mentally shake my head. I know exactly what it would do. This is Aaron. It wouldn’t just be one little kiss. It would turn into something more, something dangerous, something I wouldn’t be able to stop even if I put every ounce of effort I had into doing so.

I can’t kiss this man.

“I’m with Trey,” I state with panic as my nipples harden when I catch another whiff of him.

“And I’m truly happy for the son of a bitch.” There is humor in his voice. He pulls away and tips my chin up, his eyes heavy on mine. “I’ll wait. I’ve waited this long, no point in rushing the inevitable.”

“You’re so confident,” I state, trying to calm my racing heart. I want him. I want him. I want him.

“I am. For once in my life, I’m sure of one thing. You’re mine, but until that day comes when I can claim you as mine again, I’ll be your friend.”

God, that smile. It’s probably one of the first things I noticed about him. It’s smug yet sweet. Dangerous. And seriously unfair when I’m horny. But he’s also stepping back to give me space. He knows I’ll kiss him if he leans in any closer. Yet, he’s gallant. Kind of. He is protecting me, yet again, from hurting myself . . . and Trey inadvertently. “You’re back to that friend thing again?” I ask, swallowing hard, grateful there is some space between us.

“I’ve always believed you need to be friends with the one you love because how else are you going to get along?” He retreats to his entertainment center that’s rustic modern and opens a cabinet, pulling me out of the Aaron fog he almost drowned me in.

I can’t see what he’s doing over his large frame, but when he stands, he holds out a pack of cards and Jenga. “Now, friend, what would you like to play, cards or Jenga?”

This overly confident Aaron, the one who’s wiggling his eyebrows at me right now, the one who looks like he’s had ten thousand pounds lifted off his shoulders—he’s dangerous. I can feel it already.

He can wiggle his eyebrows all he wants, but I’m with Trey, and it’s staying that way. My relationship with Aaron was wonderful, but I was young. He was attentive, kind, passionate, all-consuming. Even though Trey and I are the same age, our relationship is more mature. Yes, I can admit I want Aaron. Physically. Because I know it would be good. Incredible. It always was. But Trey doesn’t deserve my unfaithfulness. Trey didn’t push me out his door to chase my dreams or because he didn’t trust me to know my own mind. He let me leave, knowing he’d come after me. He loves me, and he will follow me. Trey won’t break my heart. He picked up the pieces Aaron threw away, albeit for noble reasons, and cherished me. Cherishes me. It’s that knowledge I’ll cling to. I’ll probably never stop loving Aaron because he was my first. And well, because he is one of the most wonderful men I’ve ever met. But despite his confidence, I have given my heart to Trey.

***

“Do you still eat six eggs every morning?”

Aaron smiles at me over the Jenga tower. “Eight eggs now.”

I thought Jenga would be safe to play until Aaron decided to change the rules up and add a little spice to the game. If you secure a block on top, you’re allowed to ask the other person a question—within reason, that was my addition—and so far, it’s been fun. It’s like we’re meeting each other again with our easy getting-to-know-each-other-again questions.

As friends.

The storm hasn’t eased up much. There is still no power at my house, so I’ve decided to take Aaron up on his offer to stay the night, but only because I’m a bit of a wuss and don’t want to be alone in the dark. But can you blame me? Who wants to be alone in the dark during one of the worst storms the city has seen in years? Can I see a show of hands? I know what you’re thinking. I would rather be with the boy next door playing Jenga. Yeah, me too.

“There is no way you eat eight eggs every morning unless you have a chicken coop out back.”

“Maybe not every morning; sometimes it’s five eggs with some yogurt.”

“That still seems absurd.”

He shrugs, then easily pulls out a block and places it on top. Cracking his knuckles, as if this game is too easy for him, he asks, “Do you have an ex-boyfriend box full of stuff from when we were dating?”

“No,” I answer too quickly, and he knows it.

Pointing at me, he says, “Liar. Now I get to ask you another question.”

“What? Where did that rule come from?”

“I just made it up. We promised no lying so you have to pay your penance.”

I shake my head. “No way, I’m not answering another question.”

“Fine.” He starts to get up. “It’s either that or you have to take your shirt off.”

Okay, now he’s really fishing to be inappropriate.

“Do you really think that’s going to work on me, friend?”

He strokes his jaw and eyes me. “You’re right, you’re too much of a prude to consider taking your shirt off. So I’ll take mine off.” Before I can protest, he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing bronze, toned, and tattooed skin. He tosses his shirt to the side, does some kind of flex thing with his pecs, and settles back into his seat.

“There, now we’re even. Your turn.”

My turn.

My turn?

How on earth can I make a move when my hands are shaky, when my brain is filled with fog, when all I can focus on is the perfection of the man’s chest in front of me?

He’s so different. I’d memorized his body when we were going out—his toned and perfect body—so believe me when I say a lot has changed.

Let’s start with the obvious. He has tattoos now—sleeves that are starting to encroach his pecs—woven together intricately, framing his thick arms and making them seem sinister. And then there’s all that muscle. Everywhere there can be a muscle, Aaron has it, and it’s huge. Biceps, triceps, fucking forearms. His chest is powerful, corded. His biceps are massive, dominant, and his forearms are carved by sinew and veins. Lastly, and the most devastating of it all, his abs and the V, so rigid and tight. Where the hell did those come from and why are they so . . . defined?

Maybe it’s the godforsaken eight eggs he eats in the morning.

If you can get abs from eating eight eggs in the morning, I’ll start my own damn hen house right now.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat. “Your turn, babe.”

“Yes, of course, sorry.” My face heats from embarrassment. Steadying my hand, I pull out a side piece—not going for anything risky—and put it on top of the stack. Thank God.

“What’s your question?” He leans back, giving me a full view of his body. Damn him.

My question is an easy one. “When the hell did you get all those muscles?” I have no shame right now. “And why did you wait until after we broke up to obtain them?”

His head falls back as a deep laugh bubbles from the pit of his stomach. That sound, it’s so damn sexy.

“A fan of the muscles, huh?” he asks over his laugh.

“I never said I liked them, I just want to know when they came about.”

“Fair enough.” He takes a sip from his water glass before answering. “It was after we broke up, after I met Racer and Tucker. They wouldn’t let me drink, they told me to occupy my time with something else, so I started boxing. Boxing turned into strength training, which turned into weightlifting, which stuck with me. It became something I obsessed over to keep my mind off you. It worked until you moved in next door.” The corners of his mouth tilt up. “Now I weightlift to impress you, and it seems like it’s working.”

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “You’re awfully full of yourself now.”

He tends to the tower and speaks while he tries to wiggle a block free. “Not full of myself, just . . . relieved for the first time in three years. I’m glad we finally got to talk.” He peeks at me over the tower, looking for my reaction. When he places his block on top, he asks, “Which night was your favorite? When we stargazed in the middle of the park, or when we went to that drive-in movie theater in Pennsylvania.”

“Not fair.”

“You have to answer, or else I’m taking my pants off, which I have no problem doing.”

I put up my hand, blocking my view. “For the love of God, please keep your pants on.”

“Funny, you said the exact opposite at the drive-in. Man, what a few years will do.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Are you trying to make me blush?” He nods. “Well, it’s working.”

“Good. Now answer the question.”

I bite my bottom lip and look away as I answer. “Drive-in, for sure.”

“I fucking knew it.”

***

Five years ago, the drive-in . . .

 

“This place is a little janky,” I say, taking in our surroundings.

“It’s supposed to be. That’s what’s so great about it.”

I look out the window, observing the dead grass and the barely standing billboard in front of us. There are three other cars parked beside ours, all separated with lots of space in between. Two of the cars are already fogged up.

“Is this just some giant car orgy?”

Aaron chuckles next to me and laces our fingers together. “I think they’re just killing time before the movie starts. There is no way they’ll miss the thrilling title picture.”

Scanning back to the sign out front, I read what’s playing tonight. “‘Twins’, with Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger.” I turn back to Aaron. “I don’t think anyone will be tuning in.”

“Bullshit, how can they not? Arnie and Danny are twins, it’s almost impossible to believe.”

“It is impossible,” I counter. “Danny is the poop Arnold squeezes out every morning after his morning pump and coffee, so they’re not twins.”

“I take it you’ve seen the movie?”

I lean into his shoulder and rest my head. “Only a few dozen times with my dad. Huge fan of Danny DeVito.”

“That’s my kind of man. I should have brought him here instead of you.”

“Now that would have been a sight to see.” I laugh. “My boyfriend and my dad together at a drive-in, surrounded by fogged-up, rocking cars. That’s not awkward at all.”

“Not even in the slightest. Speaking of fogging up windows . . .” In one swift movement, Aaron pushes his seat all the way back and drags me on top of his lap so I’m facing him. It’s a tight squeeze given his height, but I’m able to position my legs on either side of his and sit back on my heels.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask while playing with the buttons of his shirt. I love that every time we go out on a date, he dresses up in a button-up shirt. When I asked him why he didn’t wear a T-shirt, he told me because I deserve a proper date. He’s so sigh worthy.

“Wasting time.” His hands rub my thighs. I’m wearing a navy-blue sundress that makes my boobs look amazing. I wore it specifically to turn him on. From the way I can feel him hardening beneath me, I take it he likes the dress.

“You know I’m not about to have sex with you in your car, right?”

“Who said anything about sex? I’m thinking a little heavy petting, a little motorboat action, and then we can enjoy Danny and Arnold.”

I shift on his lap, feeling my leg start to cramp up. “This might not be the best idea.”

“Giving up before we even get started, where’s the free girl I know and love?”

“It’s not that.” I shift again as my calf now starts to go tight. “I’m just trying to find a comfortable position.” I shift, trying to put less pressure on my leg and that’s when every muscle in my leg seizes on me. “Oh God,” I scream, reaching for where the pain is radiating.

“Coming already? And I didn’t even have to do anything. You’re making this too easy on me, baby.”

“No, my leg. Charlie horse.” My toes cramp up, and the arch of my foot is screaming in pain. “Oh fuck, Charlie horse!” I slap his chest with the hand that’s not holding my leg. “Get up, get up, get up.”

“What? Shit.” Aaron starts to move under me but is caught by his seatbelt. “I’m still buckled in. I can’t get out.”

“Ah hell!” My leg is so tight, I can’t move it an inch, so I flail my body to the passenger seat but that doesn’t do anything but stick my ass in Aaron’s face, my thong-clad ass.

“Babe, watch what you’re doing with your . . . knee,” Aaron moans out loud just as I feel my leg connect with something a little too soft. “Oh fuuuuck.” Aaron folds over on top of me as he reaches for his crotch.

“Get off me. Oh God, my freaking leg!”

“My fucking balls.”

Maneuvering one of his hands as he moans, he undoes his seatbelt and tries to free himself from the car. My leg continues to pulse with pain as I wiggle around, trying to stretch my leg out in any way possible. It’s not until I’m feeling a great deal of wind flying over my bare ass that I realize Aaron popped out of the car, leaving my butt out in the open for the drive-in theater goers to get one hell of a preview.

Not bothering to cover up, my stomach pressing against the center console, and my ass feeling the cool night air, I stretch my leg out and finally start to feel a little ease in the throbbing pain.

“Oh Christ.” I bury my head in my hands.

There is a light tap on my calf. Aaron’s strained voice washes over me. “I’m going to sit in the back until you’re ready to move.”

“Okay.” I breathe out heavily.

“Do you want me to cover your butt?”

Exhausted, I answer, “I don’t care.”

Aaron groans as he shifts behind me. He covers me up and takes a seat in the back.

Concerned for his manhood, I ask, “How are your testicles?”

“Trying to pop out of my belly button,” he grunts. “Remind me to never get in a fight with you, because your knees are vicious.”

“I’m sorry.” Head still buried, I start to chuckle. “This is quite the date.”

“Yeah, when I decided to bring you here, I had a completely different idea of how this would turn out, and it didn’t include me holding my own damn balls while sitting in the back of my car by myself.”

“No? That’s shocking.”

The lights in the parking area die down and the movie projects onto the white billboard. “The movie is starting. We didn’t grab the speaker for the car.”

“Add it to the list of mistakes we made tonight.”

He chuckles. “What else is on that list?”

I turn my head toward the glove box, feeling a slight bit of relief in my leg. “Well, my lack of potassium consumption has put a real damper on the evening.”

“I told you to eat those bananas.”

“Yeah, in preparation for the sex marathon you wanted to have,” I scoff, although, a sex marathon with Aaron is not something I would pass up.

“And aren’t you kicking yourself in the ass for not listening to me now?” He chuckles, just loving his little freaking jokes. “What else is on the list?”

“Hmm, well . . . granny panties would have been a better option over a thong.”

“Now I disagree with that statement. I think a thong was a very smart choice because you have a sensational ass. You just fell victim to a poorly timed gust of wind. Don’t blame the thong, blame Mother Nature.”

God, I wish I could see that brilliant smile of his right now, because I know it’s stretched across his face. Bickering with him is so much fun, so I can’t stop yet.

“No, I blame your car and your large body. Technically this is all your fault, trying to get all frisky when you know you’re a giant and we don’t have a lot of space in this little sedan.”

“Now, now, now. It’s not polite to start pointing fingers, Amelia. If you want to point fingers, I will start wiggling mine at you for not properly warning me that your knee could have connected with my balls tonight. If I knew in advance, I would have worn a cup.”

“You’re being absurd.”

“Exactly. Is it making you want to come back here and knock some sense into me? I’m doing my best to try to get you to cuddle up on me.”

“Pissing me off is not going to make me want to cuddle with you.”

Growing a little serious, Aaron says, “Come on, baby. Come back here. I know your leg has to be feeling better by now. There is more room. I just want to cuddle.”

And how can I deny him that request? Why would I deny him that request? Cuddling with Aaron is seriously one of my favorite things. He is so much larger than I am, so I feel so secure and loved within his arms.

Carefully, I make my way to the back of the car and ask, “Do you want me to grab the speaker?”

He shakes his head. “No, I just want to talk with you while we watch Danny and Arnold.”

We spend the rest of our evening making up our own commentary for the movie, talking about anything and everything, resting in each other’s arms . . . with maybe a little bit of heavy petting mixed in.

The movie wraps up and the credits start to play, but we make no move to leave. Aaron strokes my hair and I keep my arm wrapped around his waist, my face plastered into his chest. He’s so warm, so protective.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me, silly.” I press a kiss to his chin. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Me either.” He shifts and sits me up. Feeling the loss of his comfort, I glance in his direction and that’s when I see how unsure he’s looking. He’s chewing on the inside of his mouth and his eyes are cast down.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, starting to feel a little nervous.

He runs his hand through his hair and sits up straighter, so I do the same. He takes my hand in his and turns toward me. “Amelia, I . . . uh.” He avoids eye contact and my heart falls.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He exhales and his hand starts to shake in mine. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you nervous.” He chuckles. “Fuck, I’m nervous myself.” Looking up at me, those soulful eyes put ease into my heart. “I’ve never really said this to anyone before, anyone I care so much about, so I’m kind of out of my element.” Clearing his throat, he brings my hand to his mouth, kisses my knuckles and says, “You mean the world to me, Amelia. You’re by far the most important person in my life and the best thing to ever come my way. I just wanted to tell you”—he swallows—“wanted to tell you I love you.”

I don’t think I could love a man more than I love Aaron right here, right now with his shivering hands and uncertainty. Usually he exudes complete confidence, but then there are moments like this—moments that make him seem so genuine—where I feel my heart will explode. How did I get so lucky to find someone so perfect, for this man who was made just for me?

My lip trembles and my eyes begin to water. I release my hand from his and cup his face. “There is no need to be nervous, Aaron, because I’m so desperately in love with you.”

“Really?” he asks, a little surprised. It pains me to see him so shocked from my confession. How could he not know?

“Really. I’m so in love with you.”

He rests his forehead against mine and exhales. “That makes me so damn happy, baby.” He lays me back on the seat and hovers over me to the best of his ability given the small space. I peer up at him, notice eyes full of love, a little wetness in their corners. “So fucking happy.”

Lowering his head, his lips press against mine, soft and pliable at first until I pull him in closer. His tongue splits my lips apart and I match his strokes. His hands snag the hem of my dress and pull it up and then over my head, our lips parting briefly. I’m bare except my thong, my breasts exposed, yearning for his touch.

“You, that’s all I need in life to be happy,” he confesses as he moves his lips down my neck, to my collarbone where he nips leisurely. His shirt rubs against my hardened nipples, heightening the sensation.

Wanting his skin to touch mine, I yank on the back of his shirt, and with his help, I pull it over his head. His warmth immediately hits me as he hovers over me. I wrap my legs around his waist and connect my heat with his hardening length. When I rub myself against him, he moans against my skin as he takes one of my breasts in his mouth.

“Yes,” I moan, lifting up into his mouth.

“I want you forever, Amelia. Please say you’ll be my forever.”

With my hands gripping him tightly, my legs not letting go, and my mind fixated on one man and one man alone, I say, “I will be your forever, Aaron. That will never change.”

Never.